The Colorfuls

Grey like an old man’s hair

Ringing alone as the person across waits

The handset shivers on the hook switch,

After a short silence,

It continues to shiver

Pigmented by the grey shadows of the city

The eyes move rapidly

Seen all the time but never recognized

Breaths the clustered solitary,

under the boisterous footsteps

rotting liquid inside trying to catch up the greyness of the cup

Someone’s lips slightly printed on the orifie

Someone who will never return

Not for the cup,

nor its content

Dripping from the sink

Meant to be clear but seeming grey for its grey background

Clashing onto the button surface,

Losing its shape

Constant, continuous drops

Not entirely black, nor white,

Just in between: grey

Completed its duty,

Therefore its tip remains blunt and round

Waits for its presence to be required

As the Distance Grew

As the distance grew

between my toes

and the battlefield

the grip of hypersomnolence

got firmer,

tightly bounding my ankles

Every inhale I took,

from the cigar I returned to,

was filled with diphosgene,

eager to strangle the throat 

And yet every night 

I reached for another sip

The heart was limey and cold

it may seem valuable,

but I found it vulnerable

The heart was spoiled,

spotted with fingerprints of the lives that I owed

and the sin that I suffered

Should I have bolshie?

Bolshie the deaths my own fingers caused?

Or could I have bolshie 

Lustrous Glass Pieces

Laughter behind a door that’s not yours

Every joyful pitch knocks on the door,

Calling for you to grab the knob

Knowing the door is locked,

You still have hope—

that will soon be wasted

Applause in a room you’re not in

Rings in your head

as the noise bounces around

Manifesting your thoughts,

The sound gets heavier and heavier,

crushes your limbs and squeeze your lungs

Until your last exhale

A fire you can touch but never see

Burns in you stomach, 

Grilling you from the inside

The embers travel through your blood streams,

Into your capillaries and finally to your heart

Ready to boil you inside out

Wind chimes in a neighbor’s yard

with beautiful, lustrous glass pieces 

Dance through the wind,

Singing with a charming voice,

Attracts the small songbirds

Blinded by the sound,

The naïve birds glide 

into the precisely sharpened glass pieces

Too intoxicated to notice 

that their wings, legs, and eyes are teared apart

Lauren Kim is a high school student with a fervent love for both poetry and visual art. Her work delves into the intricacies of identity, the nuances of nature, and the emotional currents of teenage life. Through her poems and mixed media artwork, Lauren seeks to capture and convey the beauty in moments of introspection and everyday experiences. When she’s not writing or creating art, she enjoys exploring the outdoors, reading contemporary poetry, and experimenting with new artistic techniques. Lauren’s work has been influenced by her diverse cultural background and her deep connection to the natural world. She aspires to continue growing as an artist and a writer, sharing her unique perspective with others.